


Wardens, Warriors, and a Witcher

by YourRoyalFuckness



Series: Of Squirrels and Wardens [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Because of Reasons, Crossover, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Mentions of Rape, Multi, There will be violence, Why did I do this to myself?, and murder, and other bad stuff, so many characters - Freeform, you know how these games go, you know what you're in for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourRoyalFuckness/pseuds/YourRoyalFuckness
Summary: The Warden's quest is not over. Her search for a cure for the Blight has brought her and a few friends to the Northern Kingdoms. As per usual, they land right in the thick of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover that my sister suggested one day. As a joke. Not at all supposed to be a serious suggestion for my next WIP.  
> ...I hate her.
> 
> This involves my Grey Warden OC (Nymeria Surana) whom you might be familiar with from A Chance of Fates. These stories are not related, I just really like writing the character. This story will take place mainly throughout Witcher 2, occurring near the end of DA2. I do intend to continue it into Inquisition when the time comes.

Nym let out a sigh as she stood on the ship’s deck, gazing out over Amaranthine. It had been more than three years since the darkspawn destroyed Amaranthine, yet the city’s scars were healing well. Barkspawn was draped over the ship’s rail, clearly excited to set sail. Nym smiled as she scratched his ears, “Ready for another adventure?”

“Do you need to ask?” Nym whirled around to see Zevran, pack slung over his shoulder.

“What -”

“Are two fine stallions such as ourselves doing here?” Oghren chuckled as he swaggered over to the elves. Barkspawn clambered off the railing and barreled into Oghren, knocking the dwarf over.

“Surely you expected us to accompany you, yes?” Zevran asked, moving slightly to the side to avoid getting caught by the dwarf/dog pile. Nym was pointedly ignoring Oghren’s gruff pleas for assistance, choosing to instead cock an eyebrow at Zevran. She nodded slowly, silently grateful that two of her closest friends would be joining her.

“Nym! Nym! HELP!” Oghren’s panicked yells broke the silence as Barkspawn started to lie down on Oghren’s face. While Nym tried to convince her mabari to move, the ship cast off from the port.

“Well boys, we have one quick stop to make before the real journey begins.”

* * *

“Anders!”

The door to Varric’s room burst open, startling everyone around the table. As they dropped their cards and drew their weapons, Anders called, “It wasn’t me!”

To the increasing confusion of everyone in the room, Nym strode over to Anders and settled on his lap. “We need to talk.” She threw back his ale. “What wasn’t you?”

“I assumed I was in trouble.”

“Ah. Fair enough.”

Their exchange was interrupted by Hawke’s brain short-circuiting. “Soooooooooo…?”

“Oh, I suppose introductions are in order.” Nym chuckled at the sight of everyone still standing with their weapons drawn. “Everyone, please sit down. I shan’t be attacking you…this evening.”

“That wasn’t reassuring,” Fenris muttered as he slowly took his seat.

“No need to introduce us,” Isabella winked at Nym. “Nice to see you again, sweet thing.” Nym responded with a wink and a smile, causing Hawke’s eyes to bulge out of his skull.

Aveline coughed. “Anders. Explain.”

“Explain?” Anders and Nym questioned simultaneously, causing Fenris to shift his chair farther from the pair while Merrill giggled.

Varric leaned forward in his chair. “This woman burst into the room and sat on your lap. THIS woman. This raven-haired, caramel temptress. This Antivan goddess with eyes that will melt my soul, came into the room and sat on your lap. YOUR lap. You, the mangy apostate who probably has naughty dreams of said woman and is too busy convincing her of your manifesto to have fun. Yeah Blondie, we need an explanation.”

“I wouldn’t let a dream about her go to waste,” Hawke mumbled, causing Fenris’ scowl to deepen.

While Nym stared at Hawke, Anders cleared his throat. “This is Nym. We’ve been friends for, umm…”

“A long time,” Nym interrupted.

“Right. Nym, meet everybody. Sebastian, Fenris, Merrill, Aveline – the guard captain – Isabella you know, that’s Hawke – yes, that’s the Champion of Kirkwall, I know, I know, he’s disappointing – and finally Varric Tethras. I think you started reading a book of his?” Anders rushed through the introductions, ignoring all attempts by others to speak; Hawke sounded particularly indignant.

Isabella smirked. “Now, that’s HARDLY an introduction worthy of Nymeria Surana, THE Hero of Ferelden.”

Sebastian actually got up to bow to Nym, gently kissing the back of her hand. “It’s an honour to meet you, my lady.”

A look of horror grew on Aveline’s face as she realized that such an important dignitary saw her in the Hanged Man playing Wicked Grace. Fenris stared at Nym in shocked disbelief.

Hawke gaped and eventually said, “You’re who’s in command of my brother? I pictured you differently from his letters.”

“Oh?”

“He made you seem, I don’t know, intimidating. Less beautiful, more terrifying.” The room’s temperature dropped noticeably at Hawke’s words.

“What? You don’t think beautiful women can be terrifying?” The smile on Nym’s face was razor-sharp.

“No, they can. It’s just, you don’t seem that…impressive.”

“Who’s not that impressive?” Oghren staggered into the room, Zevran following closely behind him with Barkspawn. “Hey, Sparklefingers!”

“Andraste’s knickerweasels, you brought him?” Anders groaned into Nym’s hair.

Ignoring Varric’s question of “Sparklefingers?”, Nym said, “Well dears, it appears the Champion of Kirkwall does not find me impressive.”

Barkspawn growled at Hawke while Zevran and Oghren gawped in disbelief. Zevran recovered first, rolling his eyes rather exaggeratedly. “What about that whole Archdemon-business then? Did I imagine you killing it?”

Oghren shook himself out of his stupor. “Or when you took care of that dragon cult in Haven? They gave up without a fight, right?”

“Funny, I thought I remembered you saving Redcliffe from hordes of the undead. Or had I just had too much to drink?” Zevran muttered sarcastically.

“Remember the Varterral? That thing straight out of elven legend? It’s _actually_ a little bunny,” commented Anders with a sage nod.

“Don’t forget broodmothers!” Oghren shuddered. “Fucking broodmothers…”

“Or,” Anders added, raising his voice to be heard, “when she yelled at a darkspawn and it ran away screaming and Oghren almost wet himself?”

“I stand by that. It was scary.”

Nym rolled her eyes. “I was not that scary!”

“Yes, you were.” Anders, Zevran, and Oghren replied in unison.

“Are we supposed to believe that actually happened?” Aveline asked skeptically. Barkspawn turned to growl at Aveline.

“I think she’s impressive,” Sebastian commented. Barkspawn gave a happy woof.

“I think she’s scary,” Merrill said quietly.

Nym cleared her throat. “I really don’t give a damn what any of you think. Except yes – Aveline, was it? – it did happen. Now then, Anders. I came here for a reason. I need to talk to you.” She hopped off his lap and grabbed his hand. As she pulled him towards the door, she turned to Oghren and Zevran. “Ensure we’re not interrupted, would you?”

Anders sighed as the door shut behind them. “What’s going on?”

“As I’m sure you remember, I’ve been attempting to find a cure for the Blight. And so far, I’ve got nothing. So…” Nym trailed off as she sighed, looking far more exhausted than Anders remembered seeing her in recent memory.

“So…what?”

“So, I’m going traveling. Zevran and Oghren decided to accompany me. Nathaniel will oversee Amaranthine while I’m gone, and vague letters were sent to Alistair and Leliana. Everything is taken care of, but I wanted to tell you in person. Because if something goes wrong here, you need to get back to Amaranthine. For some strange, unknowable reason, Nate doesn’t have the same political sway I do.” Anders rolled his eyes at Nym’s brief attempt at levity. “He can only guarantee your safety if you’re actually in Amaranthine.”

“Wait, you’re not forcing me to go back?”

“Nah. Keep your clinic here. Keep helping people. But this time, stay in contact with Nathaniel. Something tells me he’d like to hear from his boyfriend. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Anders smirked at the way Nym’s nose scrunched up in disgust at being called “ma’am”.

“Ugh. You’re lucky I love you or else you’d be nothing more than a scorch mark on this grungy floor.”

Anders laughed as he and Nym walked back into Varric’s room. His laughter died out quickly, however, as he took in the shock on almost everyone’s faces. “What?”

“You laughed. You never laugh,” Fenris commented dryly, not quite managing to hide his shock.

Zevran and Oghren exchanged confused glances. Nym shook her head before turning to Hawke. “Make sure my Warden Constable doesn’t get in trouble. And by that, I mean make sure he doesn’t get caught.” Anders groaned and banged his head on the table as everybody, particularly Sebastian and Varric, started questioning him about having that title.

Nym ignored the uproar and gestured for her companions to leave ahead of her. Zevran and Oghren each gave Anders a slap on the back before departing. Zevran made some inappropriate comment as he left, but it was drowned out by Oghren shouting, “Keep your pants on you perverted elf!” Nym and Anders rolled their eyes at the dwarf’s usual dramatics.

Barkspawn started to walk out the door, stopped suddenly, and turned to look at Anders. “Oh no…” Anders sighed, just before the mabari bounded over to him and enthusiastically licked his face. “I’ll miss you too, you flea-bitten mongrel.” Barkspawn wagged his stumpy tail before chasing after Oghren.

As she closed the door, Nym stuck her head back into the room. “Don’t forget to write to your boyfriend!” She slammed the door shut with a cackle as she heard various exclamations, her favourite being Anders’ lovely farewell:

“Fuck you too Nym!”

* * *

 “I hate sailing,” Oghren moaned as he leaned over the railing, face green and clashing horribly with his fiery red beard.

“We’re not even on the proper ocean yet. We need to find a different ship at Estwatch.”

“Why Estwatch my dear?” Zevran called from his seat, far from the acrid odor of Oghren.

“Because,” Nym coughed as Oghren retched again. “The only people who are willing to sail across the ocean are some of my favourite people.”

“Oh?”

Nym’s answering grin was wicked. “Pirates.”

* * *

“I love it here,” Nym giggled as yet another bar fight broke out.

“It is rather fun,” Zevran agreed as he deftly stepped around the brawlers.

“Get over here! Yer rounds behind!” Oghren yelled at them over the din, waving like mad. Nym and Zevran wound their way through the crowd towards Oghren, snagging drinks along the way.

“So,” Oghren belched, “any luck?” Barkspawn whined curiously from his spot beside Oghren’s chair.

“Once word got around that the Hero of Ferelden was looking for a ship, crews were practically throwing themselves as her feet.” Zevran shared a smirk with Oghren.

“It was hardly as dramatic as that,” Nym rolled her eyes. “But we have a crew willing to take us. They need time to provision the ship. We sail in one week.”

“We get to hang around here for a week?” Oghren asked.

“I think we can manage that.” The three of them exchanged grins and cheered.

* * *

The four companions adjusted to living on a ship with varying levels of success. Nymeria and Zevran were perfectly fine. Barkspawn never truly gained his sea legs; it was not uncommon to see the hound stumbling around as if drunk. Poor Oghren though: what he swore was just temporary seasickness lasted the entire journey. He could be found either in his cabin or heaving over the railing.

Spending months travelling with pirates was quite a change from the daily dealings of Amaranthine. Zevran had not realized what a gap there was in his knowledge of dirty drinking songs until he had dinner with the crew. Barkspawn missed the abundance of fresh meat available to him back home. Nym appreciated just being one of the boys instead of settling ridiculous land disputes between noble pricks. Oghren could not remember what it felt like to not be sick.

Despite the varying experiences on the ship, a collective sigh of relief was heard when the captain turned to Nym, gestured to the shore, and said, “Welcome to the Northern Kingdoms.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're in the Northern Kingdoms! Chapter 1 was more of an intro, here is where things get going.

“We’re right here,” the captain pointed to a spot on the map. “The city you see there is Oxenfurt. There’s some namby-pamby university there. You should be able to commission a boat to take you wherever you want. If not, you can always steal one. I can see at least half a dozen right now that would suit.”

Nym laughed and thanked the captain. The ship finished docking while the four of them gathered their packs. As they disembarked, the captain issued one final piece of advice:

“Most humans aren’t fond of elves here. Some sort of war or something. Be careful out there.”

Nym and Zevran did not directly respond to the warning, but they did pull their hoods tighter.

* * *

 “Maker, where to begin?” Zevran whispered to Nym as they all wove through the marketplace. Barkspawn was drawing some attention, but not enough to be concerned about. Yet.

“Right here,” Nym softly replied as she lifted a man’s purse. Zevran snorted.

“How about –” Whatever Oghren was going to suggest was lost as a scream rang out. Barkspawn led the way towards the source; they found the scene in the next square over.

A corpulent merchant was shaking a young elven girl. Across her cheek was a bright red handprint, no doubt the cause of the scream. The merchant was yelling something about her being a thief and how all elves were untrustworthy bastards, especially little chits like her; the girl’s tearful pleas were utterly ignored.

Nym’s eyes narrowed. She stealthily slipped through the gathered crowd, drawing closer to the merchant. When he raised his hand again, she darted forward. Before he could land the blow, Nym caught his arm and shoved him away from the girl.

“Enough!” Nym’s commander voice echoed throughout the square.

“How dare you!?” The merchant roared at Nym, spittle flying from his lips. “She’s a thief!”

“You actually saw her steal from you? What did she steal?” Nym spoke calmly, but cold rage bubbled underneath her words. The elven girl took advantage of the distraction and slipped away quietly while the merchant sputtered angrily.

“Are you calling me a liar?! That little bitch is a thief, like all elves!”

“I wasn’t calling you anything. Now, however, I’m calling you a racist.”

After a moment spent gaping in shock, the merchant drew a dagger from his belt. Bad decision. Barkspawn lunged forward and sunk his teeth into the merchant’s hand. Screams erupted from the crowd and the merchant hollered bloody murder. This, of course, drew guards. Who, of course, gave chase. They had been in Oxenfurt a mere hour.

* * *

 “Those guards gave up rather quickly,” Nym commented, leaning against the side of the alleyway.

“Stupid surface with the stupid running,” panted Oghren.

“Are your little legs tired?” Zevran smirked at the “go fuck yourself” gesture Oghren made. “Did anyone else notice the crowd back there?”

“Oh?”

“Not one human wanted to help that girl. Their expressions – they just saw a common thief, not a child.”

Silence followed Zevran’s observation for a minute.

Nym sighed, “Come on. Let’s go find a boat.”

The walk back to the docks was silent. Mainly due to the fact that guards were still looking for them, but also in part because they had nothing to say. However, that changed once Nym took a look around the docks.

“We’re taking that boat,” Nym sneered.

The three boys glanced over to where she gestured only to see the merchant from before on the aforementioned boat. Zevran and Oghren exchanged matching smirks.

“Definitely.” Barkspawn woofed in agreement.

“Well boys, I’ll take care of this.” Oghren and Zevran both made alarmed noises but Nym had already stalked off towards the boat, Barkspawn eagerly trailing after her.

They watched as she oh-so casually strolled onto the boat. The merchant did not even get the chance to yell at Nym before there was a bright flash of blue light and everyone on and around the boat ran away screaming. Zevran and Oghren managed to push through the fleeing crowd; Nym was already moving to cast off. Guards swarmed the docks, but they all seemed too afraid to do anything.

Zevran cackled as they cast off. “Argh! Pirate Zevran reporting for duty! Prepare to be boarded!”

“Not this again,” groaned Oghren. “Keep your pants where I can see them, the both of yous! Entire damn journey over here, every single night…”

“It was a long voyage!”

“Ya don’t think it was long for me!? Noooo! I didn’t notice how long we were on the water, going up and down and up and down! And I’m just sooooo thrilled we’re on water again!”

“Can this wait until we are out of sight of Oxenfurt, perhaps?” Nym called over Oghren’s rant. He harrumphed and stomped around looking for a place to sit. Zevran assisted Nym with maneuvering the craft against the current of the river. The nervous protests of the guards and the angry shouts of the merchant slowly faded into the distance.

As the boat moved upriver, Oghren turned towards Nym. “Where are we going?”

The deck was quiet except for Nym’s frantic searching. “Oh, thank the Maker, there’s a map.”

* * *

 “Assuming I’m reading this map correctly, that is La Valette.” Nym traced the river with her fingernail.

“It appears they are undergoing siege preparations,” Zevran pointed out, “Perhaps we should not stop here?”

After a pause during which they all examined soldiers increasing the fortifications, Nym spoke, “Agreed. We continue.” She to read the map again. “Up ahead is a town called Flotsam. We should arrive in a few hours.”

Conversation died off as they sailed on, everyone immersed in their own thoughts.

“Soooo…what’s the plan when we get there?” Oghren ventured to ask a long while later.

“Hmm?” Nym looked over at Oghren, jerking herself out of her daze.

“I must admit some curiosity as well,” the Assassin commented from his spot leaning against the railing. “Considering how events went at Oxenfurt, simply strolling into town does not seem advisable, no?”

“…excellent point. I suppose we could potentially go ashore soon in the forest before reaching the town. Scout out the area and town, see what we are getting ourselves into,” Nym tentatively suggested.

“Brilliant idea. Shall we disembark now? It seems relatively shallow here.” Zevran gestured towards the bank.

Instead of responding, Nym maneuvered the boat as close to the river’s edge as she could. “I can’t get us any closer. You boys don’t mind getting a little wet, do you?”

* * *

 Zevran and Nym exchanged eye rolls as Oghren fidgeted for the ninth time in as many minutes.

“Oghren, you okay there?” Nym finally ventured to ask.

“The water got under my armor…it itches, chafes…” Oghren almost whimpered as he pulled at his armor.

“Be thankful you are not wearing leather armor, my fine dwarven friend.”

Oghren opened his mouth – “Enough. We are all wet, we are all uncomfortable. Now how about we do not get caught sneaking around in this forest, hmm?” Nym snapped as she wrung even more water from her hair. “And stop ogling me!” Oghren and Zevran both shifted guiltily, having been staring at where her wet robes clung (more than usual) to her body.

The party continued walking through the forest in the direction of Flotsam. Barkspawn slunk ahead of the others, acting as a sort of scout. Soon they found themselves standing on a small cliff, looking down upon Flotsam.

“Ah! What a lovely little fishing town! You can almost smell the desperation of the local gentry, no?”

“Well this is nice. I wonder if they have a tavern.”

Zevran and Oghren commented at the same time, derision and sarcasm dripping from their words. Nym smirked.

“I doubt we are getting in without drawing unwanted attention.” Nym pointed at the guarded gate. “At least, not through this gate.”

They began skirting around Flotsam, wary eyes examining the wall and guards. The forest was conspicuously silent and devoid of creatures; perhaps because of the proximity to the town, perhaps because of some other reason.

“Do you feel that? It seems we are being watched,” Zevran whispered into Nym’s ear.

“Glad I’m not imagining it,” breathed Nym, barely moving her lips as her eyes darted around.

A bark cut through the building tension; the hound bounded back to the party from where he had been exploring and indicated they should accompany him. Oghren followed immediately, and after one last glance around, Zevran and Nym did as well.

Apparently Barkspawn had found a little village nestled against the wall outside Flotsam. His barking had drawn the attention of the locals; they gathered at the edge of the forest, suspicion plain on their faces.

“Who are you?” A man wearing alarmingly short trousers gestured at them with a pitchfork.

“We are simply passing through and were hoping to shore up our supplies before moving on,” Nym spoke smoothly, employing a tone that had never failed to persuade stubborn nobles.

Apparently, nobles were easier to charm. The pitchfork-enthusiast was not mollified; he and the surrounding crowd raised their improvised weapons a little higher. Nym, Zevran, and Oghren exchanged concerned glances – they would rather not be forced to slaughter the entire hamlet.

Tensions were broken by a calm, measured voice. “I will speak to them.” The locals parted, leaving a path for whoever had spoken. A tall elf strode forward, nodding in greeting at Nym and the others.

“I am Cedric.”

* * *

 Scoia’tael scouts watched as the outsiders left Lobinden. They had followed the strangers since they came ashore, suspicions incessantly running through their minds. These people were not from anywhere in the Continent, that much was obvious; what they were doing in Flotsam was the question. The lead scout pondered possibilities as he moved close enough to listen to their conversation.

“– bit of an asshole, wasn’t he?” The black-haired woman commented in a strange accent. Her and the blond man were unlike any race the scout had ever seen – shorter than most humans and elves, taller than dwarves, yet more slender and…delicate than humans or dwarves. The only similarity to any race was their pointed ears. But even that feature looked different: their ears were longer than those of the Aen Seidhe.

The dwarf – the only member of the group who resembled others of his kind – snorted. “He was all: ‘Hey, look at me, I’m an elf! Trees are pretty! Tra la la!’” Insulting hand gestures accompanied the mocking sing-song tone. Anger flashed across the elven scouts’ faces, but the two bizarre elves (if they were indeed elves) laughed at his antics, and the weird dog-creature barked in what seemed to be an almost…amused manner.

“At least we are somewhat better informed of what awaits us in this forest. That is something, no?” The blond elf replied, with the same unusual accent as the woman.

“Indeed. Although I could have done without his cryptic comments.” The dog barked in what seemed to be agreement with the woman.

The group walked in silence for a while, not in any particular direction but rather just exploring. Boredom was clear in the dwarf’s and blond elf’s expressions; the woman and the dog, however, did not seem to mind the quiet of the forest.

“What an interesting change of pace. Nothing attacking us, not even guards.” The sarcastic words had barely left the blond elf’s lips when they crossed a trail. A trail which was part of the guards’ patrol route. A route which was being patrolled at that moment.

The guards drew their weapons with a shout, “Squirrels! Kill them all!”

The woman sighed heavily as she dodged a blow. “You were saying?” she asked the other elf. He merely groaned.

Oddly enough, the strangers did not draw their weapons, despite clearly being heavily armed. The reason for this became apparent to the Scoia’tael in a moment. The woman gestured rapidly; icicles erupted from the ground and impaled the screaming guards.

The elven scouts were motionless for at least a minute. Eventually, the lead scout turned to one of the others:

“Go tell Iorveth there is a sorceress here.”

* * *

Nym gazed quizzically at the corpses surrounding her. “Did they call us Squirrels? What in the Fade does that mean?”

Zevran and Oghren both shrugged as they looted the corpses. Nym pondered it a moment longer before helping loot. Once anything of value had been purloined, she carefully burned the corpses until only scorch marks remained.

As they walked off, Barkspawn cocked his head before woofing quietly and moving purposefully in a new direction. The others followed him, keeping a vigilant eye on the surrounding forest.

* * *

“Iorveth!”

Iorveth turned as a scout ran into camp. “What is it?”

“There’s a sorceress in the forest!”

“We already know about Síle de Tansarville.” Iorveth started to turn away.

“She’s an elf!” Everybody in the camp paused and stared at the scout. He cleared his throat before continuing, “At least, she seems to be an elf. We have no idea who she is or where she’s from.”

Iorveth’s remaining eye narrowed. “Take me to her.”


End file.
